


Artist and the Muse

by DianaeFox



Series: Random Drabbles [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Descent into Madness, F/M, Hallucinations, Sleep Paralysis, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 01:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DianaeFox/pseuds/DianaeFox
Summary: A surreal series of Drabbles in the first person of an author/artist dealing with her masculine muse





	1. Over my Shoulder

I can feel his breath on my neck as he pushes down on the back of my chair looking over my shoulder approvingly. A low growl resonates in his throat, but I try to ignore my impulses, and instead, revel in the sensation of his presence as I work. It rings like a thunder, coursing through my brain, down my spine, sending a shivering tingle of warmth that pools in my seat. I would do anything to please him, to appease him. I start to turn his way, and snap back to my senses, cursing my intensely vivid, hyperactive imagination.


	2. Pressure

I feel something is off as I snap awake. His weight is pressing me down into my mattress, I’m sure of it. His raspy voice rumbles in my ear, “Woman, why do you laze about when there is work to be done?” I whimper as my eyes try to adjust to the dim light filtering in from under the door. “You are mine. You gave yourself to me and I will not leave until I am satisfied.” The words terrify and excite me as my world comes into focus. 

He is not there. I feel him, but he’s not real.


	3. Not Good Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inner demons become outer demons?

I hear that rasp, “It’s not enough, you know better than that.” His breath, a heat on my throat as a low moan slips from my lips.

His voice echoes in my ears. “How dare you think that filth is anything like me.” Tears well in my eyes as his words rip apart all the work I did this past month. I feel his hand at my throat putting just that slight pressure, just enough to know he means business, to start cutting off my breath. “Don’t disappoint me, Woman. You’re doing this to yourself.”

And I know he’s right.


	4. Nighttime Encouragement

I wake up to him pinning me to the bed, again. I struggle to shift his weight to no avail. I can barely move my head to the side as I feel the chill breeze blowing across my bared belly. His comforting, yet terrifying weight moves over me, paradoxically hot and cold at the same time. I can feel the pressure of him gripping me, as I gasp out his name. I stare up at the emptiness as I feel his hands all over me, taking me higher and higher.

He stops abruptly. “Woman, you’re not finished until I am.”


	5. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denial of the truth, or acceptance?

He scares and excites me in ways I cannot fully comprehend. I slave over my work desperate to hear his voice in my head purring out pleasure, or growling out his disappointment in me. 

I have to make this right, it has to be perfect. If it’s perfect, he’ll love me. If it’s not, he _will_ punish me. 

I don’t know which I want more. 

A part of me knows he’s not there, but I can feel him and all it takes is a whisper, a touch and the pressure inside builds towards that sweet crescendo. I need to finish.


End file.
